Unquiet Desperation

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Category : Writing

This Was Your Father’s Lightsaber…

This past weekend, my brother brought over a box of old toys that migrated from my parents’ house to my other brother’s house and now to his.  We  unpacked the box and there was a great deal of Ooohing and Ahhhing from my kids who had never seen anything quite like the toys we were unpacking.

The biggest hit was the Star Wars Death Star playset, which, despite needing to be cleaned and having a few pieces missing, was still in pretty good shape. My brother generously allowed us to keep it along with a number of action figures and the next day my kids could not get enough of playing with it. It’s been nearly a week and it’s still in the living room; they are still enjoying it.

The Death Star set has no electronics. Nothing beeps, talks, or fires at you. Everything is manual. No batteries needed.  All my kids had was the setting (The Death Star) and the characters (the Action Figures1). They played there for hours.

This was a reminder of two things to me:

  • They really did make things differently when we were kids. True, this is because the tech was not there for certain things, but the quality and durability of the action figures and the playset surprised me, especially when compared to today’s Start Wars figures. The modern ones feel cheap and insubstantial. These…well…they’ve lasted through my and my brothers’ childhoods, and now my kids have them.
  • It’s a great thing to listen to children as they use their imagination. Give it a try sometime. It’s a wake-up call.



  1. No. They are NOT dolls. They are Action Figures[back]

Motivation and Fascination

This entry is part 2 of 2 in the series Working the Creative Project

The only way a creative project can be completed is by Progressing Forward. Common sense, but it’s easy to fool ourselves into thinking that research, consulting with peers, or reading articles like this one will somehow help complete the project.

At the end of the day, you’re either motivated to work on Progressing Forward or you’re not.  In a comment on the last article, Jared Axelrod put it this way:

Seriously, though, one of the most encouraging words I’ve ever heard is the phrase “If you really want to do something, nothing can stop you; if you don’t want to do something, anything can stop you.” Which has had an effect on me. Now, whenever I feel something pulling my attention away from the project at hand, I say “No, I really want to do this,” and I snap back to what I was doing. Or, it’s clear that what I am doing isn’t something I really want to do, and then I am content to let it fall by the wayside.

He makes three excellent points:

  1. Know what you want to do.
  2. Do it.
  3. If you get distracted by something else, see point #1.

I think that Jared’s comment strikes at the core of the problem. Progressing Forward requires Motivation.  The word means progression, coming from the Latin movere,  ”to move.”

So how do we move ourselves? It’s too easy to say we are motivated by something interests us; an interesting project is one thing, but it needs to go deeper than that.

Motivation is born of Aspiration, which is born of Fascination.

You can find something interesting, then pass it by. It will not hold you.  Something that fascinates you, that hooks into your psyche and will not let go…now that’s the stuff from which great things are created. You aspire to do something with the fascination, and that is the motivation to work. While it is possible to work on a project that does not fascinate you in some way, keeping the motivation will be more difficult1.

A Fascination is a tricky thing: they come in all sizes and shapes. some might be good for a single song, shortstory or painting. Others grow to become something epic. Most fall somewhere in between. All of them resonate. All of them have an authenticity to them that cannot be faked.

What subjects fascinate you?  Have you worked them into a project?  If you’ve worked on a fascinating vs. non-fascinating project, how did the two compare, and what did you learn from them?




  1. Money, of course, can help with this…we’re all fascinated with the possibilities of having extra cash on hand.Freelance work, anyone?[back]

The Four States of a Creative Project

This entry is part 1 of 2 in the series Working the Creative Project

It seems to me that a project is always in one of four states:
  1. Progressing Forward
  2. Assessing or Regrouping
  3. Spinning Uselessly
  4. Sliding Backward
The goal is to be in one of the first two, but most of the time we spend our time in number three or four.  In my own life, the process usually goes something like this:
  • It’s early in the project. There is excitement and motivation. I am Progressing Forward.
  • Time passes. Other things are intruding on my project. Trivial things like family, work, and sleep. I realize I’m in danger of Sliding Backwards, and so I Asses and Regroup.
  • After assessing, I swing back into Progressing forward for a few days.
  • Something stops me, either not having information, or worse, I’m having trouble staying motivated. I start to read my friends’ blogs or other online sources looking for ways to keep the project Progressing Forward. I think I am Progressing Forward, but the truth is, I’m Spinning Uselessly.
  • I start to doubt the worthiness of the project. I realize I am Spinning Uselessly, and I am ashamed of this. The project becomes a burden; instead of a joyful exercise, it is now an Obligation. I begin to avoid it, and it starts Sliding Backwards.
  • After so long Sliding Backwards, the project is no longer worth it, and it is tossed way.
The biggest challenge we have is that of consistently Progressing Forward; avoiding the distractions or using some form of Psychological Aikido to use their own force against them.

How do you foster your projects? How do you keep Progressing Forward?

For Memorial Day, I went to the birthplace of Superman.

I drove to a neighborhood called Glenville on the east side of Cleveland.  There, at 10622 Kimberly Ave, is former home of one Jerry Siegel. It was in this house where he and his buddy Joe Shuster created on of the greatest icons in world culture.

This is the place where Superman was born.

Last year, author Brad Meltzer and a group of comic fans raised over $100,000 to renovate the birthplace of the most famous fictional character of the twentieth century. He pointed out, quite fairly, the City of Cleveland was letting the house rot, and that it was going to come down to the fans to save it.

And save it, they did.

Now, there’s a sign out front, and a plaque that tells you what you’re looking it.  But unless you knew to come here, you’d never know it existed.

The house is both inspirational and heartbreaking at the same time.  It’s wonderful that a bunch of people pitched in to raise money to save it. At the same time, the neighborhood is a mess. The vacant, boarded-up houses nearby are rotting; one had a sign to ward off looters: “NO COPPER. PVC PLUMBING ONLY.”

There are no fast food joints here. No large-chain gas stations. No Seven-Elevens. Hardly any business at all.

If there was ever a place that needed a hero, Glenville is it.

And yet, sitting there in my car, looking at the house, I was inspired. Two kids, two poor, frustrated, hormone-addled high-school kids created something wonderful there. That deserves some respect. That deserves some homage; some reverence.

Superman’s fame isn’t tawdy; it isn’t cheap. Unlike Batman, it isn’t born from angst and darkness. Superman is one of the most rare creations, he’s famous for being the Good Guy. There’s a purity to Superman that is utterly lacking in in most pop culture icons. It’s his signature, his staying power; it’s why people still look to this fictional character with hope.

These two kids took a man and gave him three things: 1) Morals, 2) Strength, and 3) Bulletproof Skin1.  That’s it. That was the formula. Hardly original. in fact, other parts of the Superman myth were cribbed entirely from other sources. Doc Savage, for instance, was known as the Man of Bronze and had a Fortress of Solitude. Superman was not created in a vacuum…he was a mashup of things that came before, and he is greater than the sum of his parts.

As a creative guy, this gives me hope. There is a myth of originality that creative folks cling to, as if there is anything new under the yellow sun. All we can do is remix and recast not only without shame, but also without guile.

And greatness? Superman achieved worldwide acclaim and recognition. The Siegel and Shuster families, however, have been fighting for the rights to Superman for years.

And the house in Glenville, where the two boys drew on old pieces of wallpaper, nearly passed away entirely.

The house serves as both inspiration and cautionary tale. It is both despair and hope, both dread and faith.

And between those, it endures.

Just like all of us.

(Click below to read the plaque)




  1. In the beginning, he couldn’t fly. He could only leap.[back]

Escape Pod: Thargus and Brian

The story I read for Escape Pod, Thargus and Brian by Stephen Gaskell, is now up for your listening pleasure.  Be warned…there are f-bombs.

Out of respect for the British people, I did not attempt an accent.

Thargus thought the time right. He set the lights to full strength and flailed and gnashed and roared as he’d been practising. He felt rather silly, but the performance seemed to be working. The human, one hand steadying its spin, looked on intensely. It moved the white stick up to its mouth, breathed in, and then stabbed the stick out against the sac wall. “Don’t be afraid,”  Thargus said, meaning the opposite. He’d seen the trick on old films stored in the moss-brain when humans always said one thing and meant another like “We’re safer if we split up.” The human exhaled a long stream of smoke. “I’m not,” it said. That didn’t sound right. Thargus considered his response while staring at the human. It sure was ugly. A patchwork of dirty synthetics over the majority of its body, and on top of its pudgy, pink head, strand upon strand of greasy hair. Ugh!  Thargus felt sick. “Be afraid, then,” he said. “Why, are you going to eat me?” Thargus didn’t feel comfortable telling an outright lie, but that didn’t mean he needed to be too honest. “I might.”